


Fragmented

by chillafterdark



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chillafterdark/pseuds/chillafterdark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Do you write angst? I need angst for a number of reasons.</p><p>prompt: is there any way you could do a hurt and comfort like fic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragmented

He wasn’t always so cynical. There was a period, however brief, that Chris was letting himself love a little more freely than what he was used to back in Clovis. It felt  _good_  and made him happy and so, so optimistic about his future. Being with another person was still foreign and new and exciting and so, so dangerous. 

It was good for awhile, but Chris was greedy; his heart was greedy. It wanted more. He wanted a life with someone, he wanted a boyfriend and a partner and a lover and it came to be his downfall, because no one seemed to want that with him.

The boy, oh that stupid boy. They were so close and when Chris let the words leave his mouth, he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. Before he could even process what was happening, he was hearing terrible things like, “You knew what this was" and “I thought we were just fooling around." Things that Chris hadn’t even realized were so plainly laid out until they were spoken out loud bitterly to his face.

Chris saw his visions of bringing his love down the red carpet, hand in hand, evaporate before his eyes with the slamming of his front door and the screech of tires against the pavement.

And it burned; burned right to his core. It made his chest ache every time he forced himself to take another gasp of air, every time he heaved and coughed and choked back the tears as best he could. It felt like being crushed from the inside out, like his heart was quite literally breaking into fragments; blackening and dying. 

He hated himself for letting himself get so involved, for letting himself get this hurt. It all could have been prevented if he’d just stopped, if he’d only realized he was being tricked, being lead to believe he was loved and not just another boy to fuck. 

He had been scorned, brutally, and filled with resentment that even when he had fallen head first, heart first, he had made the worst mistake possible. He had let himself love too fiercely and pretend he was being loved in return because it felt so good, felt better than going home alone. And now he was alone again in his empty house, accompanied only by the ticking of his kitchen clock.

God, it hurt so  _bad_. He would claw his own beating heart from his chest if only the pain would stop. 

When he stopped talking all together except for when he was on set people must have started to realize, tried to talk to him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t open his mouth without feeling like vomiting and losing it all together, so he didn’t. He became a walking corpse, dead to the world and dead to himself, because feeling nothing was better than feeling everything else.

When even Ashley couldn’t get through to him, that’s when she really started to worry. He didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t want to be told that everything was going to be okay, that  _the boy_  was a jerk and he didn’t deserve someone like Chris anyways, he couldn’t take it. Not now, not when he felt so far from  _okay_  that he didn’t know if he could ever make it back.

But when Will showed up at his door step three days later, a perfect friend with perfect timing, he finally let himself break down because he couldn’t take that beautiful face looking back at him with sad, comforting eyes.

Will held him close to his chest and for once Chris let himself feel like a fragile babe, a wounded lamb that needed to be protected not from the hurt of the world but the hurt of his own mind, his own anger, his own self-hatred. So Will held him tighter, clutched his sob-wracked body and wounded heart against his own and didn’t speak, tried not to move except to pull Chris closer into his lap and keep him there against the heat of his body.

"I can’t do this again." Chris whimpered into Will’s tear-damp shoulder. “Never again."

Will didn’t shush him, Will didn’t say anything. Chris was never more grateful than to have someone like Will in his life to hold him together when he didn’t feel like he could do it himself, who would sit with him and let him cry and didn’t try to tell him how to feel, that didn’t try to diminish what had happened or how broken he felt.

Will thumbed away the tear tracks from his blotched red cheeks. Chris could tell Will wanted to fix everything himself, to tell him that he didn’t need an asshole like that in his life, but instead he let Chris close his eyes, nestled against his strong chest, enveloped in his strong arms, and let him drift, tethered to shore and not alone.

Chris knew Will would offer the glue to rebuild, to start over again when he was ready, and be the glue himself until then.


End file.
